Posts Tagged ‘horror’

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3 of 5 Fucking-Disturbing Stars – Sink & Disintegrate by Cyma Rizwaan Khan.

This is a strange book. The cover is what got me hooked. It’s fucking amazing. But the story? Not so much. It’s a weird, disjointed story that makes no fucking sense whatsoever.

It’s the story of monsters. At first, I thought it wasn’t about real monsters. I thought it was about this guy who was abused as a child. And yes, parents can be monsters. But it turns out that it’s actually about real monsters, hiding amongst us. And possibly ghosts. And hallucinations.

It’s about this guy, Ethan, who desperately wants to cure the world of monsters. A stranger passes him a photo of some kid. A young boy who’s supposedly in trouble. The monsters are about to get him, or something. Or maybe the kid is already dead, who the fuck knows.

This is what drove me crazy about this book. Nothing is real. As far as I know, Ethan was a ghost the whole time. Either that, or he’s extremely schizophrenic. Because he hears voices and sees visions. Strange people just show up at his apartment, giving him advice. Threatening his life. And even saving his life.

Then they just disappear, like they were ghosts, or hallucinations. Again, who the fuck knows. It didn’t make any fucking sense to me, and yet it was still a compelling story.

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4 of 5 Rotting-Flesh Stars – World War Z by Max Brooks.

After I saw the movie “World War Z” I had to give this book a shot, because after the movie, I thought, there must be something more to this story, because the movie didn’t make much sense at all. So, I read this book, and found it pretty fascinating.

It’s a completely different way of telling a story, for sure. It’s kind of like a collection of short stories, about one world-wide event. Each of the stories are written like an interview of different witnesses of the zombie war. Very little of these witness accounts make it into the movie. In fact, the movie has very little to do with the book.

I have to say, I like this book more than the movie, simply because it actually has more depth and detail. I got more of a complete idea of what the zombie war was like, from all around the world. Of course, there was no hollywood-like ending. In fact, there really wasn’t an ending at all. The interviews just stopped, and there were no more pages. I was like “What the actual fuck… What happened, goddamnit?!”

It was definitely an interesting read, but still not an actual story with beginning, middle and end. And, fuck Brad Pitt in his dirty asshole. Because, damn he’s hot.

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3 of 5 Creep-Does-Not-Rhyme-With-Deep Stars – Creep by T. Kent, among others.

This is a good book of poems and flash fiction. But perhaps I’m biased because I love horror so much. And you wouldn’t think that I’m a big fan of poetry, now would you? Of course you wouldn’t think that. Because I’m a fucking idiot.

But there’s a secret, you see. Don’t let me fool you. I’m not really an idiot, I just play one on TV. And I studied poetry in college, so I know a good poem when I see it. And let me tell you this, these are not good poems.

Okay, there’s like 2-3 good poems in this collection. But for the most part, they’re complete shit. They’re just pointless. They don’t tell a story, or make me feel ANYTHING. It’s just bla bla bla (insert rhyme here) bla bla bla.

That’s not poetry. Oh shut the fuck up. Yes, it’s poetry in the literal sense, but it’s not good poetry. Good poetry doesn’t need such a structure. But every single fucking poem in this collection rhymed like it’s a book for three-year-olds.

But it’s not a fucking book for three-year-olds, goddamnit. They’re poems about death, and gore, and serial killers, for fuck’s sake. So throw that goddamn iambic pentameter out the window and give me some real fucking creativity.

Or maybe that particular poetry structure was what was required by the publisher for this volume. Who the fuck knows? All I know is, it annoyed the fuck out of me.

This collection was saved by some brilliant flash fiction. Those stories were awesome. I really wish the whole book was filled with those stories, even though like 70% of them were set during Halloween. That’s a bit too many Halloween stories, don’t ya think?

At least they’re good Halloween stories. Except one. It’s titled ‘Mayhem’, so you know what to avoid. Seriously, skip that goddamn story, because it’s fucking bullshit.

You know that awesome movie, Crash? Where there’s all these different stories interconnecting with each other? This story was like that, and then, out of nowhere, it just ends. It was building to something awesome, and then just ends. What the fuck?

Overall, I’m still glad I read this collection, and I would definitely recommend it. It’s a good book, but it could have been much better.

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1 of 5 Get-Vampire-Zombie-Raped Stars – I Am Legend by Richard Matheson.

I hated this book so much. It’s pure drivel. Well, 90% of it was drivel, the last 10% was actually pretty damn cool. But I expected the whole book to be like the last 10%, full of monsters and zombies.

But no. The first 90% was full of useless horsehshit. It’s just about this guy living in an empty city. Wandering around, going on about how much his life sucks so much ass. Oh how I wish I could find someone… Please, someone answer my call.

Shut the fuck up and kill some zombies already, man. I don’t fucking care about what you had for breakfast. I don’t care about how you’re a goddamn shut-in, who rarely leaves his fucking house. Go outside, for fuck’s sake. Give me some goddamn action. Damn.

In the last 10%, he finally meets some people. They rape him in his dirty asshole, like he deserves. Because, fuck this guy. He’s just a useless fuck. I hate him so much, I want to kill him myself.

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3 of 5 Sweet-Human-Flesh Stars – Consumed by Matt Shaw.

This is a very standard cabin in the woods type horror story. Which really pisses me off. It’s not the cabin in the woods that annoys me. It’s all the normal bullshit you have to wade through to get to the goddamn cabin.

Because the first half of this book is a complete waste of space. Well, that’s not entirely true. Just like a good horror movie, Shaw grips his audience from the very first page, with an excerpt of what is to come. Extreme horror. Yay!

So the first page is good, but then it drags on for another 70 or so pages, without even a hint of any more gore. Just some idiots going camping. Talking about bullshit. What should we have for dinner? Oh, did you see that flower? So pretty…

Just kill me now. I fucking hate that mundane horseshit. I’m sure some would say “Oh, but Glenn, you can’t have hardcore gore all the time. You have to build characters and such.”

I say, “BULLSHIT!” You can totally have both. Just ask Jack Ketchum, or Edward Lee, to name a few. They write stories that are crazy hardcore horror, and they even have vibrant characters to go with the story. It can be done.

It just can’t be done by Matt Shaw. I’ve read several of his books, and it always comes down to the same problem. Too much everyday life bullshit, and not enough actual story. I don’t give a fuck what your characters had for breakfast. I don’t care that the coffee was oh so wonderful. Nobody fucking cares about that shit.

But then, when Shaw finally gets down to the meat of his story, where the poor hapless strangers find a helpful family in the secluded cabin in the woods. What could go wrong? Well, everything…

The hapless dude’s girlfriend gets literally eaten for dinner. While she’s still alive. Naked, and tied to the dining room table. Apparently these folks prefer their human meat fresh off the bone.

One of the cannibal girls corners the poor hapless guy. She seduces him. Gets him nice and hard. Goes down on his cock, and literally swallows it whole. After she bites it off at the base, of course.

So yes, good times were eventually had at the cabin in the woods. It just took way too long to actually get there.

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5 of 5 Zombie-Spider Stars – This Book Is Full of Spiders by David Wong.

This is the sequel to John Dies at the End. It’s about a small town being taken over by demons and crazy spider-looking things.

I am scared to death of spiders. I did not want to read this book. But since it’s the sequel to one of my favorite books, I just had to read it. And I couldn’t put the fucking thing down. I loved it just as much as John Dies at The End, if not more.

It’s filled with the same type of crazy drug-infused antics as the first book. If you asked me to describe the plot to you, I would just give you a catatonic stare, like a crazy person. Because I couldn’t wrap my brain around what was happening in this book. My eyes were glued to the pages, and I had no idea why. It’s like the fucking thing put me in a trance, or something.

None of this book makes any sense. But that didn’t matter, because every sentence was a fascinating read. I just don’t have the words to describe the story. It’s complete insanity from beginning to end. And I fucking loved it.

But did it really have to be about spiders? Come on, man. Fuck spiders. While reading this book, I had to keep telling myself “Don’t worry, man. They’re just fictional spiders. They can’t hurt you.” Like it was a mantra or something.

Indiana Jones had it wrong. Snakes? I can deal with snakes. But spiders? HOLY SHIT, MAN! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Goddamn, I’m such a fucking pussy.

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3 of 5 Sick-And-Twisted Stars – Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk.

I wouldn’t call this a novel. It’s a novella, at best, that creates a setting for the characters within the novella to tell their short stories. Frankly, this would have been a better book if was just a collection of short stories without the bullshit novella that ties them all together. It doesn’t need that connection. The short stories have nothing to do with the novella that is intertwined.

Most of the time, I found myself skipping, or skimming most of the novella, and just reading the sort stories. Because, the short stories were mostly quite insane and interesting to read. The novella was boring as fuck. Sure, they had to resort to cannibalism to stay alive, but who gives a fuck? All of those characters are useless assholes, who deserve to get eaten anyway.

So, yea. This book is completely fucked in the head. I’m pretty sure the author was on acid when he wrote this shit. I’m glad I read it, for the completely fucked up bits, but I’m still pissed off that I had to wade through the bullshit of that novella just to get to the good short story bits.

There’s the guy who got his guts sucked out his butthole, because he was sitting on the pool drain, while masturbating. There’s the call girl who only does ‘foot jobs’. She can end your life, just by massaging your feet. A nun who kills people with a bowling ball. A chef who kills critics who give him a bad review. (Oh shit! Fuck. I’m a dead man…)

I persisted to the end, just for the fucked up parts. But they were hard to find. Like mining for shit-covered gold. Often times, the worthless fucking novella got in the way of the short stories that it was supporting, and it was hard to tell them apart. In this fashion, it was actually work to get through this book. I had to like, concentrate or something. It hurt my tiny wittle brain.

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5 of 5 Mind-Fuck Stars – John Dies at the End by David Wong.

I hate to tell you this, but John does not, in fact, die at the end of this book. No, he dies in the middle of the book. But then he comes back to life. Because, zombies or whatever the fuck. Don’t ask me to try to explain this book to you, because it doesn’t make any fucking sense.

It really is the most brilliantly-written nonsense I’ve ever read. I couldn’t get enough of it. I read every goddamn word, my eyes glued to the page. Was it because of the amazing characters? Or a fascinating story, perhaps? Not really. It was just the most unpredictable Roller-Coaster ride I’ve ever been on. And I loved every second of it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that the characters, or the story, are bad. They’re just fucking weird. The whole story is just one long acid trip, as far as I can tell.

This book is about David, and his friend John, who are paranormal investigators of sorts. Because one day, at a party, they took some acid, or ‘soy sauce’ as they call it. They call it that, because it’s black, and kind of indescribable. It’s some kind of alien substance, that has a life of its own. If you don’t want to take it, that’s fine. It will find its way inside you, somehow.

Ever since they took the soy sauce, they can see monsters, and ghosts, and strange things happening in their town. So every time something strange happens, they are called upon to help. And let me tell ya, something strange happens in their ‘Undisclosed’ town all the fucking time.

After John is supposedly killed, David is arrested. He thinks he’s in big trouble, until his friend John calls him up and explains that David is not really being detained. John says that that big guy who looks like a police detective, isn’t really there. He tells David to just walk out of the police station.

So he does, but then his phone starts to die. So, John tells him to buy a hotdog at a street vendor. “Okay, now put the hotdog up to your ear, like a phone. And talk to me, man.” David does this, and is amazed that the hotdog does indeed work as a perfectly good phone. Because John is just inside David’s head, you see.

So, David sets out to find John’s killer, still talking on the hotdog-phone, with mustard drooling down his chin. “Dude, can I just eat this hotdog? I’m really hungry, man.” David asks his dis-embodied friend. “Fuck no. You eat that hotdog, and I’m dead, dude,” his friend replies.

The book goes on like this, with David fighting off monsters by himself, until he is finally reunited with his dead friend. Then they get to kill the big boss-monster. After going through a portal to a different dimension, of course. In that world, all the girls are naked, and they all worship David and John, as you do. Because they are the chosen sacrifices to their real god, the boss-monster.

I told you this book was a big fucking acid trip. It makes absolutely no fucking sense, and yet, at the same time, it’s bloody fascinating. It’s just rain wreck after train wreck.

I can’t recommend this book enough. It’s one of my all-time favorites. The book itself has crept into my brain, just like the soy sauce. It has infected me, and I’m glad for it. At least I don’t see ghosts and monsters yet. That would suck. I’d hate to have to solve everyone’s fucked-up problems.

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3 of 5 Chilled-Butt-Hole Stars – White Walker by Richard Schiver

I’m pretty sure that all call centers are some form of hell. I mean, every time I get a telemarketing call, I politely listen to their pitch. I even ask questions. Like, “Oh really? And how long is this offer available? No way! You’ve got to be kidding me…” Then, after they are sure the sale is imminent, I say “Just kidding, man. Go fuck yourself!” and abruptly hang up on ’em. Good times, man.

This book is about a call center that’s surrounded by a wicked snow storm. How the fuck all the characters in this book actually got to work during such a storm, is anyone’s guess. I mean, if you’re working at a goddamn call center, wouldn’t you look for ANY fucking reason to stay home?

Seriously, if it was snowing, there’s no fucking way I’m dragging my stupid ass to a goddamn call center. I’m calling in, that’s for sure. “Umm, yeah… My car is like stuck. There’s just no way I can get there, man. So sorry.” Because, fuck that job. It’s hell.

Apparently, along with the storm came the Devil. Or at least that’s what he seems like to me. He roams the streets looking for prey. Looming in the shadows of the storm. He offers one woman the life of her dreams, in exchange for her first born child. And he burns down a schoolhouse, with the teacher and children still inside.

But wait, the children don’t want to cross over to heaven or hell, or whatever the fuck. So they haunt the call center? Yeah, that makes sense. The children haunt the call center, and introduce themselves to random call center employees. This is the fun part, because when the children touch a living soul, that guy burns to the ground. Like full-on face melting shit.

The Devil, or snow monster, or White Walker, whatever you want to call him… He comes to the call center to retrieve the children that didn’t cross over to hell. And the unborn child that he was promised. Because everyone at this call center is fucking each other. Even though it’s totally against company policy. Like that stops anybody from fucking. Come on…

The best part of this book is the ending. Teddy (who the fuck names a ‘hero’ Teddy?) and his girlfriend flee the ravaging snow storm, and move the fuck to Florida. Because fuck snowstorms. That’s fucking awesome. He’s sitting on a beach, sipping a cool drink and thinking, Fuck those idiots that died in that call center. Now that’s some kind of hero, right there.

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1 of 5 Go-Fuck-Yourself Stars – Birds of Prey by Blake Crouch and Jack Kilborn.

If you have read Serial Killers Uncut, which is by the same authors, don’t bother reading this. Birds of Prey is pretty much just a copy of that book.

This book is a collection of short stories about serial killers, same as Serial Killers Uncut. It is not a novella, as it’s said to be. As far as I can tell, there are only 2 very short stories in Birds of of Prey which are not included in Serial Killers Uncut. And both of those stories are exposition pieces about the killers’ youth.

If I had known this was the only difference in these two books I most certainly would not have read Birds of Prey. It’s utterly pointless. It was a total and complete fucking waste of time.

Seriously, this book pissed me off. I think I even threw it across the room, at one point. Because it’s just bullshit. I wanted to read more about the fucked-up duo Lucy and Donaldson, goddamnit. Because they’re fucking awesome.

But no! All I got was the same shit I’d already read. And a little exposition that I’m not even interested in. I don’t give a fuck how Luther Kite grew up. I just want to read about him torturing people. Is that so wrong?

Obviously not, because there are plenty of these books out there. At least some of them are somewhat original. But not this fucking book. It’s just a carbon copy of another book, with a different name.

If I could, I’d give this book 0.00000000001/5 stars. Or fuck it, give it 0 goddamn stars. Because that’s what it deserves. It wasted my fucking time, and for that it deserves the worst possible rating.

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